Thank You
by tatooineknights
Summary: In the immediate aftermath of the events at Bespin, Luke Skywalker is asleep, wounded, and in pain. He wrestles with what he has just endured and can't shake off the guilt that plagues his mind. Lando Calrissian steps in to speak with him, his mind also haunted with guilt, and the two men speak to put the other at ease, looking for a way to thank one another.


Luke's brow furrowed as he free hand gripped the cloth that was tightly wrapped around him, as sweat dipped and slithered down his cheeks, eyes closed and completely asleep. Haunting images pierced through the shell of his mind as the cold of space made him shiver, refreshing his memory of the sweeping winds beneath Bespin, where he clung precariously for dear life.

That memory seemed all too real while he slept, eyelids fluttering as he recalled the mixture of great pain and numbness that encumbered his entire self: the clamminess of his remaining hand as he gripped the weather vane with all his remaining energy, his legs wrapped tight around the pole, all the while battling his own exhaustion and fatigue. It felt like death – and in that moment, Luke supposed, death was inevitable. He considered simply giving away; breaking loose and allowing his skin and bones to decompose against the weathering winds and gasses, his soul leaving his physical self, becoming one with the Force and freeing himself from his pain and emotional torment. At the very least, that would have meant that there wouldn't be an additional inheritor to the bleak throne occupied by Darth Vader.

But at the thought of that name, Luke remembered feeling a hopeful glimmer within himself; he had to at least try to survive. The Dark Side wanted nothing more than either his total acquiescence or his imminent destruction – his powers were either to be used or ended. What greater defiance, then, to spit in the face of that villainy and prove the purity of The Force. Luke had to survive – for himself, for his friends, and for The Force. "Ben," he called out, wincing at the pain. He reached up to the pole and found his strength shot, slumping down into the cold winds and afraid of imminent death.

His legs proved their worth as they locked harder against the weather vane; Luke noted that, should he survive, he would thank the rigorous training regimen the Alliance had set up. There was so much terror then, different from the insidious terror he faced with Vader, a personal terror that threatened to chew him out and cast him down into the depths below. Luke had to survive – there had to be some way –

"Leia."

It was instinct but it was his only hope. In his sleep, Skywalker almost found it darkly amusing that his friend, whom had once called him and Ben Kenobi her "only hope," was then being thought of in the exact same way. It wasn't long until he saw the familiar speck of a ship swim underneath clouds and sweep through the ravenous winds that rocked his body so. The Millennium Falcon rushed to his rescue as his hand began to slip, his knees buckling and threatening to give in. He smiled as a strange figure arose from the top hatch of the ship and nodded, freeing himself from all that tension and fear by falling and letting go to the forces below.

"Kid," Luke remembered the man saying as he collapsed into his arms, hooking a wire over his belt to make sure they'd both stay steady. He remembered crying as this man huddled his own arms around his battered shell, whispering something into his ear that he couldn't recalled, his hand combing through sweaty and matted hair. This wasn't a man he knew but – there was something in his touch, the way he soothed his fears, that reminded him of the warmth of his Aunt so long ago. The terror was freed from his mind, temporarily, and all he wanted to do was bask in the familiarity of this stranger's kindness.

"Kid," he repeated, though Luke didn't quite remember him saying that again a second time. Luke tossed to his side and tried to remember what happened next – everything had become quite a blur from there on out. He was reunited with Leia, managed to escape the Empire, and instinctively admitted that Darth Vader was his father. That all seemed to happen in a matter of seconds and –

"Kid!"

Luke awoke with a jolt. The stranger known as Lando Calrissian towered over him as he slumped back into his makeshift bed, simultaneously groaning at newfound pain and smiling at the friend he had only met just recently. Lando placed his arm on Luke's shoulder and smiled back, though his brown eyes seemed clouded with its own glaze of confusion and fear. "Lando," he whispered, closing his eyes in relief as he thought back to the dream he was having. There was something about that face that was so pleasing to his eye - in a way he hadn't felt in years. Was it the charming smile? The determined and sincere gaze? The handsome mustache? Or perhaps was it the immediate care and comfort he showed Luke?

"We haven't quite made it to your base yet, kid. I didn't mean to wake you but we could hear you moaning and groaning all the way back in the cockpit. We wouldn't want you to wake up the Princess during her rest, now would we?"

The Jedi grinned weakly but nearly cried out in pain as he sat up.

"Let me prop your arm up for a second here and see how much bacta is remaining in the tube," stated Lando as he grabbed the tourniquet that clamped around Luke's stump. He made a quick glance at the cuff and nodded, gently laying the arm into Luke's lap. "No wonder you were making quite a fuss. That ration of bacta was almost completely out. Another ten minutes and you would have woken up the entire galaxy," he joked, trying to bring some levity to their situation. Luke smiled at his attempt; letting out a low moan as the contents of another ration was dipped into the tube.

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me just yet," warned Lando, the warmth in his face crippled suddenly by guilt and despair.

Leia explained the situation to him while he nursed and dressed his wound. Lando was an old friend of Han's that was forced by Vader to betray and capture the group of rebels. Ordinarily, maybe it was possible that Luke would have been upset about his role in this situation; however, the young Jedi knew that the guilt he bore was twice that of what Lando must have felt. It would have been hypocritical to judge – especially after all of them got thrust into a trap just for him – and besides, there wasn't any way he could hate someone that literally pulled him out from certain death.

"It's not your fault, you know." The friend of Han turned around and stared at Luke with puzzled eyes, his mouth slightly agape as he took in the rebel. There were words that couldn't escape his lips, Luke could tell, and he wanted to get his own out before he'd have the chance to respond. He wanted to free Lando of the burden that he wore tight around his sleeve. "You would have never had to do any of.. what you had to do.. if it weren't for Vader trying to get me. None of us would be, really. I owe you."

"You don't owe me a single thing, Skywalker," Lando quipped, though his eyes seemed to glimmer in a mixture of relief and watery tears. He turned away and wiped his eyes quickly, turning back to the wounded Jedi. Luke sadly wished he himself was able to get such immediate relief, the secrets he kept locked away deep into his soul were for no one else's ears. "It seems to me though that we both owe something to our friend though – Han."

"Han," Luke muttered, his face immediately turning pale as he stared into his lap. The rebel tried his hardest not to think of that cunning smuggler, the sarcastic wit that could cut through the hardest surface, and his heroic actions that saved his own life countless times. But the harder he tried to resist, the more those memories pulsated inside. When Luke was shivering and lying in the coldest of conditions, Solo risked his own life to cross the blizzard desert to reach and save him.

 _That's two you owe me,_ he remembered his friend saying afterword.

"You're right," he nodded. "It's going to be hard. I don't know how much you know about me, Lando, but I'm from Tatooine. I've been there all my life and I've only heard rumors about Jabba and his palace but – but they aren't good rumors. We're gonna need a plan if we are going to rescue our friend. I don't really think the Alliance will help us much on such a remote planet and my hand-"

"You don't worry about a thing until you get all better, understand?" Luke nodded, instinctively placing his left hand over the tourniquet and rubbing it absentmindedly. The smuggler placed his own hand atop Luke's and smiled. "Me and Chewie go way back. Leave the politics to Leia and leave the intel work to us, you just focus on recovering and becoming the best damn Jedi you can be."

Skywalker nodded. He pushed back his blanket and stared at his belt that was still clasped awkwardly around his waist, gazing back hopelessly at the empty clip that once held his lightsaber. It saddened him to see that instrument of peace missing – the only piece of Anakin Skywalker he still could claim. The missing weapon hung a heavy weight to his soul, dread and fear of a loss of power filled his head.

"Never thought I'd be seeing a Jedi again."

"Did you meet one before?"

"No, no," Lando shook his head, finally taking a seat next to Luke, crossing his arms curiously. "At least not I know of. But let me tell you something kid; not everyone believes these lies Palpatine created. Those lies about how they were plotting to over throw the Republic – how they scarred our great leader. I don't know if I believe in this Force but I, and several others, know that the Jedi once stood for peace. It isn't a coincidence to me that peace, and the Republic, ended when the Jedi were gone."

"You could be a new shred of hope for billions of people."

"It'll be hard to be worthy of that hope without a lightsaber at my side," Luke darkly joked, patting his belt.

"I see. I'd always hoped I'd be able to see one of those laser swords," said Lando with disappointment as he looked to the empty clip on Luke's belt. "But you still have time. Hell, you might not even need one of those weapons if you can learn some of those powers. I've heard so many great things – rumors, mostly – and I got a gut feeling about you, kid. You're gonna become something great. If Vader and The Emperor want you on their side, then boy, I'm glad you're gonna be on ours."

"Lando," Luke beamed, his face lightly blushed with a tinge of pink. The praise wasn't deserved but, he had to admit, the pride it made him feel helped just a tiny bit. "I can see why Han was your friend. Here I am, missing a hand and potentially inches away from death, and you are already cheering me up for the minute and reminding me of what's important."

"The same goes to you, kid."

The two men looked to each other fondly, with the kindness and appreciation of two people who had known each other an entire lifetime despite only being together a few hours. Luke twisted himself up from the bed and wrapped his arms around Lando's neck, so eager to show his appreciation and desperate to feel the kindness and warmth of another close to him. "Thanks," Luke whispered in his ear. The older man smiled back, hugging his friend and patting him gingerly on the back. The two were locked in place longer than Luke anticipated - the gentle pat on his back becoming more sincere and genuine; more romantic and less platonic.

"Um," Luke stated as he pulled away from the embrace. "Do you think you could help me take off this jacket before I go back to bed? I would myself but," he held out his arm and motioned to the rather large medical tourniquet. "This big thing makes it a little difficult for me to do it myself."

"No problem," nodded Lando.

Lando unzipped the jacket and delicately slid the top half of his fatigue's off of the youth, starting first with the left arm, and then with the right. The clothing was tightly clamped down by the tourniquet, which required additional strength from Lando, who carefully tugged out bloodied fabric. "You're bleeding still," the man said in shock, neatly folding the jacket and setting it to his side.

"It's dried," Luke said nonchalantly. "I'm gonna be okay now." The green tank top he wore underneath the jacket was damp from his own sweat, clinging tight to his chest, but he somehow managed to feel freer and less restrained. He also couldn't help but notice that his friend's eyes were glued to his arms, as if they were marveling his strength. The Jedi smiled at his notice. Lando caught himself though and quickly glanced away, chuckling awkwardly as he combed his fingers through his hair.

"You know, kid- I mean, Luke," Lando said, biting down on his lip carefully as if he were being cautious with what he was about to say. "I can see why Han cared about you so much. Leia, too. There is something so genuine and pure that comes off of you. It – It's almost intoxicating, if I may be honest. There isn't a lot of that left in this galaxy, especially after all you've seen and been through."

The two men looked to one another, their blue and brown eyes locked in place, staring blank and deep into the depths of their souls. There was so much different but so much similar – their pain, though slightly alleviated from their words and the presence of each other's company, still gnawed away as the guilt hid beneath. "I just wanted to say thanks," Lando said, turning away.

"Wait."

Lando twisted back, his eyebrow raised.

"I-I wanted to thank you, too."

Lando placed his hands on Luke's shoulders, to which Luke reacted by gripping one of those hands, and smiled. There was a dormant part of Luke that suddenly began to feel alive – flesh rising as blood filled his cheeks. Maybe he was just in a stupor – maybe it was from the pain. There was something alive about this man and it reminded him that he still needed to fight; for himself, for his friends, for The Force. It was an immensely pleasurable experience that he wasn't quite ready to let go of.

"I think I know a way to show our thanks."

The Jedi blushed and stood still as Lando delicately bowed his head; lightly pecking his own lips against Luke's and kept them there for what felt like minutes. This was something entirely new to Luke – and, he wondered, if this was something familiar to Lando. He'd been kissed before but this was the first time by a man, and, it felt so good and right. This, something so raw and of the moment, was exactly what the fledgling Jedi needed. His emotions were scattered all over the place; fear, guilt, regret hung to his body harder than the tourniquet pressed against his skin. His eyes fluttering open and staring back at Lando, he wondered if the man was feeling the exact same sort of thing.

It was a simple thank you.

But it worked - oh, it worked so well.

Lando pried himself away from Luke before reaching for his left hand, kissing it tenderly as he wore a genuine smirk on his face. "I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other, Mister Jedi," kneeling down to grab the bloodied jacket. The young rebel noted a distinct pinkness to Lando's face as he inched away toward the door.

"But let's do what we need to do first – what we owe to a good mutual friend of ours."

"We're going to save Han."

"Even if it's just the two of us," whispered Lando with full seriousness. "Especially if it is the two of us. I don't know what you are capable of yet, Luke, but I can tell what kind of person you are and I know you are destined for greatness."

The two men nodded at each other. Lando left the room and Luke sat back down on his makeshift bed, fingering and clawing at the warm cloth of his blanket, his mind racing around as it struggled to ground itself. Something wondrous just happened – maybe it was only just for that second or maybe it was something that would last awhile – but, for the moment, it was enough to take his mind elsewhere and allow him to sleep in peace one last time, before they'd begin their plot to rescue Han Solo.


End file.
